


get your wait's worth

by inc



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Painplay, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inc/pseuds/inc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing Harry all wound up like this always makes Zayn feel more settled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	get your wait's worth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [disarm_d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarm_d/gifts).



> A little something for the [bestboys](http://bestboys.livejournal.com) smut swap. My recipient is [disarm_d](http://archiveofourown.org/users/disarm_d), who provided some awesome prompts (and writes some awesome fic, by the way).
> 
> My thanks to [shuttermutt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shuttermutt).

They’re in Zayn’s room that night.

Zayn’s already gotten ready for bed, but Harry had invited himself over, announcing he was at Zayn’s hotel room door with a text rather than knocking.

Zayn would be lying if he said he was surprised that Harry showed up in only his pants. 

Now they’re on Zayn’s bed and he’s waiting, wanting to see how Harry approaches this.

Zayn’s sitting against the headboard, a pillow behind him. He’s in his trackies and an old t-shirt that he nicked from Niall’s suitcase. There’s a film on but neither of them is really watching it.

Harry is already restless next to him, sitting there awkwardly in his little black pants. He’s running his hands over his soft thighs, palms rubbing up and down bare skin. His cock is obvious, a thick bulge beneath cotton. Not hard yet but not soft either.

Harry hasn’t gotten off in nearly a week. 

Seeing Harry all wound up like this always makes Zayn feel more settled. Zayn had gotten off late last night, wanked in the shower before getting into bed relaxed and loose-limbed. He still feels sated with it, almost, but that’s probably because Harry is so much more on edge than he is. 

Zayn spreads his legs, lazy warmth curling through him as he watches Harry squirm out of the corner of his eye. 

Harry finally shifts a bit so he can turn towards Zayn. “Hey.”

Zayn looks at him, and when Harry says nothing else Zayn just laughs, a low, airy sound. “Hey.”

Harry’s smile is soft. His gaze wanders briefly over Zayn’s face and then he meets his eyes. 

Zayn feels the corner of his mouth quirk up. He puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezes once at the muscle there, fingers digging into soft skin. Then he lets it slide in to clasp loosely around Harry’s neck. 

Harry’s quiet and his eyes are half-lidded as he lets Zayn hold him gently by the throat, thumbing the fragile hollow where his collarbones meet.

Harry’s unmoving now with Zayn’s hand on him but the anticipation is still there, a flex of his leg, a tremble in his breath.

Zayn moves his hand to wrap around the back of Harry’s neck. “C’mere.”

Harry goes with it, letting himself be pulled into a kiss. 

He only gives Zayn the barest press of his mouth. It’s a soft, sweet few kisses and then there’s a flash of tongue along Zayn’s bottom lip. When Zayn chases after him and tries to deepen it, Harry sways back just enough for Zayn to see the small smile curving his mouth. 

With his own smile and a subtle shake of his head, Zayn draws him back in, more forceful this time. He makes a sound in his chest when Harry opens right up for him.

Harry throws a leg over both of Zayn’s so he can straddle him. It’s not a graceful move even with Zayn guiding him because he does it without breaking away from Zayn’s mouth.

Once he's in Zayn's lap, he melts into him as though he belongs there, sighing against his mouth. His hands are clasping and releasing Zayn’s shoulders whilst he kisses him, kneading like a cat. He’s roving his hips and letting Zayn feel how hard he’s gotten already.

The longer they kiss the harder Zayn’s cock gets too, arousal centered there and slowly spreading through him until it feels like he’s radiating with it, skin flushed hot.

Harry pulls back and says, “Could I suck you off?”

Zayn thinks about letting Harry do it. He likes that Harry asked for it even though he’s the one who hasn’t come in a week. Harry always gets so hard from sucking Zayn off, like a physical response to having his mouth used. 

He rubs his hands up and down Harry’s thighs, circling his thumb over the shadow of a bruise he left there a few days ago. 

“You can blow me later,” he says. “Tomorrow.” He puts pressure on the bruise, prods into it with the pad of his thumb.

Harry lets out an, “Oh,” at the ache of it. “Okay,” he says with a nod, brows furrowed. 

Zayn kisses him, scratching down the length of Harry’s thighs at the same time. His nails are short but he’s pressing down hard, really making it count. Harry’s mouth is so soft compared to the rough drag of fingernails on his skin, and Zayn can feel the vibration against his lips when Harry moans at the feeling.

Harry’s even more restless now, fidgeting in Zayn’s lap as Zayn slips his tongue into Harry’s mouth and leaves scratches down his thighs.

Harry has his hips budged up, just the right angle to have his arse pressed to the line of Zayn’s cock. Zayn rocks against the heat of Harry’s body, just enough pressure and friction to tease.

Zayn eases away from the kiss but doesn’t let Harry pull back, keeping their faces close. “You wanna get fucked instead?” 

Harry breathes in sharply, a soft, sudden sound. He nods.

Zayn shoves his hands down the back of Harry’s pants to palm the curve of his arse. “Even if you don’t get to come?” he asks.

“God,” Harry groans, arching back into Zayn’s hands. “Yeah.”

“Get the bottle from my bag.”

Harry clambers off him and immediately tugs his pants down, kicking them away. He starts rummaging through Zayn’s bag, naked. Zayn snorts and strips off his own shirt, throwing it on the bed next to him. He doesn’t have a chance to get out of his trackies before Harry is crawling back onto the bed, straddling him again. 

Harry takes Zayn’s hand and drips too much lube onto his fingers, getting two of them slippery and setting the bottle on the night table.

Zayn reaches behind him, dotting wet along Harry’s skin as his fingers press into the cleft of his arse.

“How much d’you need?” Zayn asks. 

“I just want—” Harry mumbles and then he stops, pressing back like he can get Zayn’s fingers in him that way. “Just get me wet?”

Zayn can feel how hot Harry is between his legs, rubbing fingertips over his hole. The skin is smooth, even smoother with the slickness Zayn’s smearing there. It’s easy to slide one finger into him, all the way inside.

Harry lets out a heavy breath and his hands clutch desperately at Zayn’s broad shoulders.

Zayn fucks his finger in a few times, getting a feel for how tight Harry is. “You’ll be sore tomorrow,” he says. Harry’s so hot inside, it’s hard to get the words out. “You’ll be sore before we’re even done.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. His voice is breathy and strained, still deep but not his usual loose sprawl of speech.

Zayn draws his finger out and presses back in with two, building up fast to a steady thrust, probably getting carried away. He’s only meant to be slicking him up but he can’t help it. Harry’s mouth falls open as Zayn’s fingers fuck into him, arse tilted up.

One night he’s going to make Harry come like this, just from getting fingered. Zayn loves doing it for some reason, loves how Harry goes tense all over, his toes curling. He could bring Harry close to tears, get him so worked up that he comes only from this.

But tonight he wants other things, so he screws his fingers in one last time before slipping them away. He wipes the slick from his fingers on the shirt he’d thrown aside.

He’s about to go ahead with it, get his trackies off so he can finally get inside Harry, but then he glances down between them. Harry’s so hard, like he’s ready to finish off any second. His cock is heavy with it, bobbing as Harry moves and dripping precome messily onto Zayn’s stomach.

Zayn rubs a knuckle over the slit. “Are you gonna come if you ride me?”

Harry bites his lip like he’s not sure. He’s come untouched before without meaning to, after Zayn made him wait for days. 

“Guess you’ll have to go slow so that won’t happen,” Zayn says. 

“Yeah,” Harry replies hoarsely.

Harry lifts up so Zayn can get his trackies down far enough to get his dick out. Then he sits back, holding Zayn’s cock steady as he starts to sink down onto it.

Harry takes him, slowly easing down until he’s sitting on him, and Zayn’s breath catches in his chest. 

Zayn doesn’t know what it is, but — it’s always so good between them. Even in the awkward beginning when they didn’t know each other’s bodies yet, when they were feeling each other out and going on impulse… even then, it was overwhelming how good it was. 

And it’s not like he _forgets_ how good it is, he doesn’t think he could. But somehow it’s like he’s learning it all over again each time they do this. It knocks the breath out of him like it’s something new. 

Zayn licks his lips, exhaling hard. His hand goes to Harry’s neck again, feeling the pulse beat against his palm. Then he sets his nails to Harry’s skin, starting at the sensitive bit just behind his ear and scratching harshly all the way down the length of his throat.

Harry hisses out a “ _Yeah_ ,” and tips his head to the side, baring his neck for more. Zayn does it again so he can watch Harry’s face. Harry always gets this expression when Zayn hurts him, like a look of concentration but more intense, blushing hard and touched with sweat, mouth parted and panting.

Zayn leaves four pink lines down Harry’s chest this time, fingernail catching at his nipple on the way down. Harry lets out a sharp sound and his cock jerks, another bead of precome welling up at the tip. 

Harry’s fucking himself down on Zayn’s dick. They’re only shallow thrusts, a grinding roll of his hips, but Zayn is reeling with it. His cock is tender and stiff, swelling even harder as Harry rides him.

Harry’s noisy, moaning out a steady sound at the feel of Zayn inside him and rasping out these higher groans when Zayn makes him hurt.

Zayn’s not quiet either, groaning at the feel of Harry squeezing around his cock, the way he tightens up inside each time Zayn’s fingernails drag over his skin.

Zayn does it once more, going for Harry’s neck again, scratching long marks down the side and all the way to Harry’s chest. 

For a moment, Harry holds his breath. He does that sometimes when Zayn’s hurting him good. It’s only ever for a handful of seconds but it’s long enough for Zayn to notice. Harry’s face always goes pink with it and he gets weirdly quiet. 

Zayn digs his thumb hard into the bruise on Harry’s thigh and Harry’s held breath stutters out of him on a high sound, the color in his face fading a bit so only his cheeks are flushed. 

He almost looks feverish as he rides Zayn faster, with his glassy eyes and the red staining his cheeks and his mouth and his chest. Overstimulated after a week of nothing. He gets like this when Zayn makes him wait and then gives him everything at once, gives him his cock and makes him hurt. 

The marks from Zayn’s fingernails are nearly lost in the blush taking over Harry’s skin. Zayn _hmm_ s and gently runs fingertips over a smooth stretch of skin just above Harry’s nipple, then he leans in to bite. He holds Harry still for it, twists his own hips up so his dick shoves tight into Harry at the same moment his teeth scrape across some of the scratches he left earlier. 

Harry whimpers hard and stops. He’s shaking a bit all over each time he breathes out. 

Zayn lays another bite mark over the one he just left, this time pulling a bruise to the surface with his mouth. 

“Can’t hold out?” he asks. He’s getting close. His voice is rough but there’s a tremor in it.

“I can,” Harry says. He can be so stubborn but he sounds uncertain right then, even as he starts moving again. He lifts himself up slowly and slides back down deliberately, making his cock jerk when he keeps doing it.

“Yeah?” Zayn replies, even though he knows. He knows Harry would do it if he could. He’d let Zayn come in him and send him off. Harry would have to pull his pants back on before he left, like, just pull them up over his hard cock and go get ready for bed. Freshly shagged but still on edge, a week’s worth of it built up. 

Zayn’s head falls back against the headboard. He spurs Harry on faster, knows he’s close to done.

Harry’s cock is slapping wetly against Zayn’s belly now. He’s so hard that Zayn doesn’t know how he hasn’t just shot off out of pure reflex yet.

“Oh,” Harry says abruptly. He looks wrecked. “I can’t, ‘m gonna—”

“Fuck,” Zayn grunts in sympathy, going breathless as Harry fucks himself down on his cock over and over. “’S’all right, touch yourself. You can come.”

There’s relief on Harry’s face but he looks a bit staggered by it too, like it might all be too much now that he knows he can.

Harry wraps a tentative hand around his dick, grip just enough to feel it, and starts to wank himself. He huffs a loud breath that rolls into a shivering series of exhales, his body tightening up sweetly on Zayn’s cock.

Zayn’s eyes almost roll closed at the feeling. His hand lifts up and slaps back down on Harry’s thigh hard enough that his own palm stings.

“God,” Harry breathes. He shoves his hips down until Zayn’s dick is settled in deep and starts to come, eyes closing like he can’t handle that much sensation. Harry always gets off really good with something inside him, filling him up. He comes so hard this time he almost gets Zayn in the face, a scatter of wet heat from Zayn’s jawline down his throat and over his chest. 

The little noises Harry’s making with each pulse of it eventually fade into panting as he finishes, one last weak spurt of come dripping over his knuckles.

Harry lets go of his cock, still more than half-hard, and buries his face against Zayn’s neck like he doesn’t care that he’s probably smearing his own come across his cheek. He holds onto Zayn’s biceps and keeps moving, rutting down onto Zayn’s cock even though he must be oversensitive now.

Zayn loves it, that Harry’s working so hard for it even though he’s probably ready to pass out.

“Yeah, make me come,” Zayn mumbles on an unsteady breath.

Harry makes a low whinging sound and speeds up, and that's it for Zayn, he starts to come.

He pulls Harry down onto him, mutters, “Like that, babe—“ so he can have the tightness of Harry’s arse squeezing at his cock all the way to the base. Harry obeys with a hum, letting Zayn press in deep and slick him up inside. 

Zayn's head is tipped forward, forehead pressed to Harry’s shoulder as he comes. It goes on for so long that he feels drained at the end of it, light-headed in the best way. 

He thinks he might be smiling a bit when he tilts his head back, he’s not quite sure what his face is doing. 

Harry looks pleased, as wrung-out as Zayn feels. He blinks slowly and glances down at his chest. Now that the flush is fading from his skin, the scratches are more visible. The bite mark is even more obvious, a mottled bruise forming. 

Zayn wants a smoke. He wants to go to sleep with Harry beside him. He wants to wake him up in the middle of the night and do it all over again, mark him up even more. 

 

After they wash up and dress for bed, Zayn goes out to the balcony for a cig. Harry joins him, sits on the ground between Zayn’s feet so Zayn can lean in and slip his free hand down the front of Harry’s shirt, idly touching the bruise on Harry's chest while he finishes his smoke.


End file.
